


My First, My Last, My Everything

by LifeLover



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: ALL THE EMOTIONS!!, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But not really!, Colorful descriptions of thoughts and feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fingerless Gloves, First Snowfall Of Year, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure!Charles, M/M, No Beach Divorce, Post-Cuba, Sort-Of Beach Divorce, Winter, Worried!Erik, emotional insecurity, red scarf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeLover/pseuds/LifeLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first winter after Cuba, reconciliations happen and there are hopeful beginnings.  AU - Semi beach divorce, but not really. You'll understand when reading it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My First, My Last, My Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/gifts).



> Okay. This is for Luninosity who gave me a prompt for my birthday to write a fic. The prompt is from The Weakerthan's song Manifest: "let every second step in boots on snow/complete my name". Hopefully this works for her. Story title and end lyrics are from Barry White's song "My First, My Last, My Everything". Opening lyrics are from The Weakerthan's song "Manifest". Hope you like!!  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“let every second step in boots on snow, complete_

_your name/ so tell me nothing matters less or_

_more/i choose to sit next to you here and wave”_

 

 

 

Charles is utterly and completely beautiful. 

 

That's the only thing Erik can think, watching as Charles stands on the balcony of his mansion, watching the first snowfall of the winter. His brown hair tumbles with the swirling flakes, sparkling diamonds landing to glitter on his head, on his scarf ( _his red scarf that Erik had bought when the weather turned colder where Charles had taken it with a quiet “Thank you” and hadn't looked at him, hadn't shared any thought-delight in between their heads)_ , even on his hands, still wearing his favored fingerless gloves despite the chill.

 

His hands would get cold. Erik started to take a step forward, to hold those pale fingers, wrap them in warmth and comfort, but he hesitated. What right did he have to touch anything about Charles now?  Before that Cuban beach, before killing Shaw, before the bullet …. maybe.  But there was so much between them now, a chasm ever-widening with each second that Erik didn't know how to bridge.

 

He'd almost lost it all, almost lost Charles.  He'd made the wrong choice killing Shaw like he had, he knew that. Full of revenge, full of anger and he had deflected the bullets _why not ruin them why deflect WHY_ and Charles had been hit.He'd been so full of heartbreak ( _no my friend, we do not_ ), guilt and grief.  He'd been about to leave when he'd heard, barely the soft “I can't feel my legs” behind him.  Well, there was no real choice after that.

 

The doctors said that if it had taken slightly more time, Charles would have been paralyzed.  Cold comfort.  There were around 4 months of recuperation and rehabilitation for Charles to go through. Erik and the others stayed at the mansion to help.  Erik wasn't sure he'd be allowed to help, especially after he learned what killing Shaw had done to Charles, but Charles had simply swallowed, tired blue eyes glued to the hospital covers and said softly “Please, Erik?”  Erik hadn't the heart to say no. Not to the simple plea.

 

It wasn't the same though.  Erik and Charles still slept in the same bed, so Erik could massage out leg cramps that hit Charles suddenly.  But there was no sex. No warm kisses, no mock-innocent looks, nothing.  And yet at night, Charles would curl into Erik's arms, desperate, trusting. As though Erik's arms were still a safe harbour.

 

The worst thing though, was their bond had disappeared. Charles' presence no longer hummed quietly in the back of his mind, an ever-reassuring presence.  There were no more sly jokes that only the two of them shared, no more soft thought-caresses. No more mental chess games during dinner, in minimalist lead and coal-black (Erik) or old weathered Victorian pine wood with the scent of mint tea (Charles).  Charles had withdrawn and Erik missed it horribly, an ache in his chest that didn't seem to have disappeared at all since the hospital.

 

Erik now swallowed past the lump in his throat, refocusing on Charles who had turned to study him wistfully, posture defeated.  Even looking so vulnerable, so still (Charles should be smiling with a twinkle in his eyes convincing him of human-mutant coexistence or explaining his lectures or just being content and safe.) Charles was beautiful. Cheeks flushed like roses from the cold, eyes the color of the ocean (although Erik knew of the dark monsters and wrecks that lay beneath the placid surface), Charles leaned slightly against the balcony, legs slightly tired. They tired more easily in the cold weather.

 

Erik **_wanted._** It wasn't even the sex, although Charles naked, golden skin with freckled clusters and silvery scars from old hurts wriggling under him, was a sight to behold. Blue eyes darkened and hazy with desire, unable to completely focus, gasping, even thoughts non-coherent … a way to give up control.  Exquisite, blissful surrender and rebuilding in Erik's firm hold.  Erik wouldn't care if Charles would never be able to have sex. It was the connection he missed.  The bronze-violet-evergreen bridge between their minds.  The knowledge of never truly being alone.  He'd felt alone these past four months.  Before another second passed, he had to try and fix this. He reached out tentatively with his mind.

 

_Charles?_

Charles' eyes widened, lips parting as he met Erik's gaze. _E ..Erik? Was that .. you?”_

 

“Yes, it's me.” Erik said seriously.  _What are you thinking about? You look sad._

 

_Oh …_ Charles swallowed, gaze skittering away, nervous. _Just … I'm doing much better now. You don't have to stay, y'know._

 

“What!?” Erik exclaimed, feeling immediately regretful as Charles flinched. _Charles …_

 

“I know you have a mission,” Charles spoke quietly, blinking rapidly. _I don't want you to stay out of .. out of guilt. I'm all right. Your debt is payed._  Then floating over to him in soft daisy-yellow honesty. _You saved me._

 

_Not yet, obviously._   Erik strode forward to stand in front of Charles, reaching out to tip the chin up and catching the blue gaze, snow sparkling on the long eyelashes. He held it as he sent out his love for Charles, surrounding it's golden core with his latticework of feelings: bronze awe, iron determination to protect, coppered fondness, silver twinkled anticipation, steely strength.  And red-gold sparks striking off the whole intricate metal safety-net of lust.

Charles gasped as he received the _thoughts/feelings/uttertruth_.  He started to tremble and Erik moved to hold him, one black turtleneck-clad arm supporting Charles' body, the other moving as he cupped Charles' cheek.

_I'm not leaving, Charles. Never leaving._ Erik hesitated slightly, but continued with the truth. _I almost did and that would have been the worst mistake of my life.  I'm not letting you be alone. Not letting either of us be alone ever again. Please … please don't hide from me._

Charles nodded, eyes wide. _yes. Yes. Oh Erik!_ And before Erik could do anything, Charles kissed him and Erik was helpless to do anything but reciprocate, hand sliding from cheek to hold the back of Charles' head, giddiness flooding through him as the connection bridged between them. _Charles …_

_You said no hiding. And I won't._  They broke apart as Charles shivered, this time from the cold. Erik guided him into the warm room, pulling him into a secure embrace on the small sofa in the room, scarf removed.  Charles nestled comfortably into his side as Erik pulled on the metal safety-pin he'd fastened to the blanket, moving it to cover them and provide extra warmth.  Charles smiled gently.

“Raven's bringing us hot cocoa..”  Erik snorted, amused, feeling a grin curl his mouth despite himself. “Does this mean I have to see what outrageous flavours you now add to hot chocolate?” He already was wondering what flavours he could buy for Charles.

“Of course!” As Erik started to stroke Charles' hair, Charles purring contentedly (he really was like a cat sometimes), Charles curled his fingers into Erik's black turtleneck. _Thank you Erik,_ came the soft thought. _I need you. Always. To be my refuge and sanctuary. And tell when I'm being arrogant._

_We need each other_ Erik thought back fondly, the ache in his chest dissipating. _You're my everything, Charles. Never forget that._

_I won't_ drifted back the lilac-drowsy thought. _Because you're my everything too._

_“That simple world of our own/nobody but you and_

_me/We got it together, didn't we babe/You're my_

_reality/You're the first, my last, my everything”_


End file.
